Welcome to Gaia! ::

The barrier was cool, and it felt like placing a hand against a thick window pane. The glass-like surface was effective in both concealing what was going on inside as well as protecting them from any outside threat.

Of which, Cybele was not.

She was a guest, and an invited one at that.

The glass rippled only a few seconds later, and Lyndin stepped out. His eyes immediately settled on her and he nodded approvingly. He’d kept himself busy, and maybe there was a tenseness in his shoulders that implied he hadn’t yet rested, but he didn’t seem bothered to be out here with her.

“Cybele,” he greeted, because he knew her.

He’d been waiting for her.

“It is good to see you,” he said, whether it was or not. He eyed her arms but did not presume to know what she brought, or why. “Do you need help with that?”

Lyndin reached out to accept the casserole dish and nodded. “Thank you. I am impressed by how considerate so many of you are. I’ll put this inside and be out in a moment,” he said--and did just that. He was gone for less than a second, and didn’t even seem to completely pass through the glass. There must have been a table or something inside that he set it down on, because he turned back to her without ever fully disappearing.

“I’ll see it’s distributed, please pass your mother our thanks. You don’t look particularly happy,” he noted, and paused. “You don't have to share it if you don’t want to. I won’t take offense if you want it for yourself. Or are you preparing for a difficult conversation, Cybele? I have no intention of giving you a hard time. I was honest when I said I would share everything I could and listen to alternatives.”

Lyndin nodded understandably; he took note of her presumed agitation but did not seem disturbed by it. “I do not blame you for your caution or reservations. I understand that we are new and unknown to you. Our customs and practices are completely foreign. You cannot help but associate what we do with what you know. I have never seen our efforts to survive as anything malicious. We do not wish to hurt anyone. Coming with a weapon must make us seem like a war-faring people to you, but we’re not. We were researchers, and scholars, before our world was taken from us. I don’t expect you to be moved by this information. From what I can gather, war is common on this planet. But it wasn’t, not for us. We adapted. We survived. I look at your world and I see hope. I see people who want to live. I see a world that doesn’t know how much danger it’s in.”

He shrugged. “I respect that. I am not upset that there is resistance to our presence, or out methods. And I said before and mean it still, if there is an alternative to save this planet, we have a few weeks to find it. I will spend all my time here learning what I can. I do not act rashly. What can I do to reassure you that I have Earth’s best interests in mind?” he asked, and for as large and imposing as his presence could have been--and, in its own way, was--he seemed genuine in his compassion for this planet and its well-being.

Lyndin watched her patiently, like he was giving serious consideration to all of her words. Admittedly, he did not seem impressed with her alternative. He crossed his arms over his chest contemplatively and leaned back a bit, as if seriously ruminating.

“You do not seem to care for us in the slightest,” he pointed out. “Would you really want us here for more than a few weeks? You do not seem to want us here at all. Forgive me, I am not arguing. Only seeking answers. I cannot blame you for your hubris, you are very young. And very out of touch with the rest of the universe. I have been told that you cannot travel to any world but that which you share your namesake with. I take it you have no life there, either. And as such, no one to tell you how dangerous it is out there.”

He spoke, serious, but not condescending. He was used to sharing information, and he spoke to her with no less respect.

“We have come offering technology and aid. It is not as if we came here to relieve you of resources. We brought all that we need to survive. Though, your gifts are appreciated and kind. Do you want to fight, for the rest of your life?”

His brows were knit, in thought and not anger.

“You make it sound so simple. Like if we leave, things will stay as you know them forever. I did not get the impression anyone had any idea how to ‘win’ this war. And it does not seem as though there are alternate plans you are pursuing. I only worry that when something worse does come, your attention will be too divided to properly handle it.”

Lyndin considered her words as she spoke, but there seemed to be some thought tugging at him even with her reassurances. “You say ‘ultimatum’ but I have not threatened you once,” he pointed out. “Are you afraid we will retaliate if you don’t assist us? We’re not here for violence. I will consider your alternative, but...”

He was quiet. “The longer we stay here, the longer my people are without us. The Vanguard--and Velencya--knows we might be here for weeks, months, if you require further assistance, but we do not have any permanent plans to stay. We have enough resources to take care of ourselves for a while, but I don’t think we can stay for an indefinite period of time without assistance. The intention is not to be a strain on you, or Earth.”

Lyndin exhaled as he contemplated. “Although, I have never said we are the only ones that can protect you. I have said that we want to. I have heard you have an ally with a merchant from space? And I have suggested bolstering the defenses of your Surrounding. I have offered aid and information and technology. I do not want to see Earth fall.”

But, there was plenty of space for misunderstandings to breed distrust, so he added, “Why do you care about Archideus? It has never had a Senshi. It has never had life. It is already only broken debris. What do you hope to achieve by avoiding it?”

Lyndin nodded, because he’d heard her words and still seemed to be taking into account her concerns about all of this plan. “I suppose your concern for Archideus makes more sense knowing that. But Archideus is not a small, useless space rock.”

He was quiet for a few seconds as his own eyes raised to the sky; he looked at the stars--familiar, but different, here.

“Archideus was once our moon. The piece we have in mind will pass close to Earth, but the other pieces are far away and scattered. I know there was never a Senshi associated with Archideus because there was never any life there. It was a satellite on Velenia. The moons were important to us. They were never just rocks in the sky. After we were invaded, they tried to harvest the moons, too. Cerideus, the largest of the two, collided with Archideus. The destruction was catastrophic and immense. There was nothing we could do to stop it.”

He was used to seeing stars, and being surrounded in a sea of empty, lifeless worlds. His eyes found nothing in the sky worth looking at for too long, so he returned his gaze to her. “Archideus had a crystal core that will easily amplify the energy we can direct to it. We chose Archideus because we know it is compatible with our own crystals, and because we know that even if something should happen to it, there are still at least four other pieces out there. Knowing life did not blossom when it was whole, I don’t hold my breath that it has suddenly developed the ability now that it is broken.”

He sounded a bit sad, but continued, “It is one of a few pieces left of our homeworld. It is no coincidence that we chose to use it. As it is now, a comet in space, it is will travel until it collides something else. I don’t know what destruction it might find on its own. But could be even more catastrophic if the energy built up within it isn’t depleted before that happens. Velenia was a battery. Full of untapped energy. It’s why we were such a prime target. Our moons were charged full of energy given off by our world. Archideus, broken as it is, still charges. I cannot guarantee it,” he said, honest at least, “But I suspect that over time it will replenish its energy again. Even if we were to drain it completely now, I honestly believe that energy would regenerate over time.”

“Velenia is my homeworld, yes. And, in ruin as it is, I still have hope for it. If Archideus can give you the chance to save your world, I would have you take it. It can do nothing for ours, not as it is. But I am grateful for you and your questions. I am sorry to have dropped all of this on you so suddenly. I know we are without much time.”

He breathed a sigh--heavy, and laden with all the troubles he’d carried with him for years.

“I hope that good will come of this. I cannot predict the future, but I think this is the best choice we can make to give everyone a chance. If you have more questions or worries, I hope you will share them. Now, or when they come to you. I wish someone had come to us in our time of need. We have always been prideful, I cannot deny that, but if anyone had helped us, before our world fell, maybe things would have been different.”

Or, maybe their world would have withered like all the others anyway.

They were here, now, though. It meant something.

Maybe they could do something.